[Faith-talk] {Spam?} A New Leaf by Diana M. Amadeo, Merrimack, New Hampshire

[Paul Smith]

Hey you gals out there.  If you were Desiree and I was your Mom, would 
you have done what this 6-year-old girl did? Just curious.  All of you 
enjoy the following.

Desiree, my six-year-old daughter, kicked the autumn leaves along the 
sidewalk into a neat pile as we walked to the school bus that morning.  
I should have accompanied her in my wheelchair, but opted for my 
crutches instead.  I have multiple sclerosis, and my neuropathy was 
acting up.  Still, like Desiree, I loved the satisfying crunch of 
leaves underfoot.  Autumn is magical here in New Hampshire.  I can't 
think of any sight more breathtaking than the mountains cloaked in the 
blazing yellows, fiery reds, and burnished golds of the birch, oak, and 
maple leaves.

My daughter skipped along in the crisp air.  I tried to keep pace, but 
couldn't.  I didn't want her to see how much pain I was in.  She bent 
down, scooped up an armful of leaves, and sent them flying into the 
air.  They cascaded down around us, and Desiree giggled.  "Brown, 
yellow, orange, green! Red is my favorite.  Is it yours too, Mommy?" 
Her smile faded as she looked into my eyes.  "Mommy, are you okay?" She 
reached out to hug me.

I embraced my baby as best I could.  "Your hugs always make me feel 
better," I said.  It was true; for the first time that morning, I had a 
brief respite from the pain.  But as soon as we got to the school bus 
stop, the spasms resumed.  I need to go home and take some pain 
medication, I told myself.  I wouldn't be able to wait much longer.  
The pain was intense, like thousands of sharp, thin needles piercing my 
legs.  Desiree played in the leaves.  I paced, groaned, and prayed for 
relief.  Where is that bus?

I forced myself forward, wondering how I would make it back to the 
house when my whole body was in spasm.  Then I felt myself lurch to one 
side.  I nearly toppled.  Damp leaves had attached themselves to the 
rubber tips of my crutches, making them slick and dangerous.  I picked 
up one crutch and shook leaves free.  Then I stabilized myself against 
the clean one so I could shake the leaves off the other crutch.  They 
all fell off except one.  The leaf stubbornly held on.

"I'll get it," Desiree said.  She knelt down and pulled the offending 
leaf off the crutch.  "Mommy, look!" she gasped.

In her hand was a bright crimson maple leaf.  Around its center vein 
was a hole in the leaf--perfectly shaped, as a heart.  The school bus 
brakes screeched.  Flashing me a big smile, Desiree handed me the leaf. 
I bent down and gave her a kiss, then she waved goodbye and got on the bus.

I gingerly held onto the crimson leaf with the perfectly shaped heart 
as though it were fine porcelain.  I hardly remember walking home.  I 
often wonder if I floated back.  All I can recall is feeling totally 
enveloped in God's love and in awe of the beauty all around me.

That afternoon, I met Desiree at the bus stop.  I had the leaf with me. 
"I have an idea," I told her.  "I never want to forget this wonderful 
day.  Let's go have the leaf laminated at the copy shop so we can keep 
it forever."

Desiree is in high school now, and my MS is in remission.  And the 
maple leaf? It still hangs on the glass door of our breakfast nook; its 
perfect heart a reminder of that perfect autumn day, and God's 
restorative promise--bright, beautiful, holy.

And there you have today's uplifting reading.  Whether you heard it 
read previously earlier or whether you just read it for the first time, 
I pray that it was a blessing for you.

Tomorrow in this space will be the latest email from Tim Smith of the 
Museum of the Bible, focusing on how U.S. presidents viewed that sacred 
book.  Until then or until you read tomorrow morning's quotes, may the 
God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob just keep us safe, individually and 
collectively, in these last days in which we live.  Your Christian 
friend and brother, Paul